


when --- gets ----

by DToftheDarkthief



Series: short stories [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Food, Gross, not a thing you want to read if you're eating, you'll cringe atleast once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29773401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DToftheDarkthief/pseuds/DToftheDarkthief
Summary: im so sorry
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Reader
Series: short stories [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2204892





	when --- gets ----

**Author's Note:**

> This has no storyline relevance to "Love" this was just me having a little sick fun.
> 
> In other words, a shitpost.

I’m baking something because I want to eat something sweet and he doesn’t know how to bake so I’m going to make a fluffy cheesecake. 

Ah, the memories of being out with friends during or after an adventure, eating cake and drinking bubblies. I lean against the counter with my arms and sigh fondly at recalling such memories. My Idly fondling with the string of this apron that he wanted me to wear.

I smell the cheese in the oven, the water bath steam made the air surrounding the oven thick and smelling of the marscapone, I believe it’s called. My only escape, baking was something that has to be done with no distractions. At least that was how I learned it from the baker I worked under.

I could feel the heat from the oven on my bare legs as I wore shorts and a short sleeve shirt - I can’t find any that cover my midriff - so I could move without restriction

When the scent was strongest, I grabbed a few cloths to hold the tin the cake sat in. The moment I opened the oven, some steam that hadn’t escaped blew in my face. It smelled wonderful though. 

It was heavier than I had expected, I didn’t do much while waiting and the weight was just surprising. But I stumbled a little with the cheesecake, nearly dropping it as my grip through the cloth slipped.

My heart dropped with the cake and I got scared, but I managed to get it on the counter. I slide down to my knees, press my head against the cupboards. Why was that so unnecessarily tense?

“Are you done yet?” His voice rings through the kitchen from the lounge. 

I’m not going to answer and continue taking my breather before I release the cake from it’s springform prison. I clapped my hands on my cheeks very gently then grabbed two plates and two forks. 

“Oi! Cold-bitch, want some cheesecake?” I called out. He didn’t respond. 

Oh fuck me, he mentioned earlier that he wants me to refer to him as some sort of “endearing nickname” - something couples used. He can go get fucked. But I did spend a lot of time baking this and it really sucks to eat by myself, but it’d probably suck more eating with him. Hgh.

Fine.

“ _ Honey _ , do you want some cheesecake?”

“Yes, dear. I’ll get you a knife to slice some for us, as long as you give it back to me.”

I feel like dying just saying that. He comes into the kitchen with a knife. Handle facing me, I grab it and open the springform with my other hand.

He “stares” at me and I’m a little unnerved. 

“Look at something other than me.” I’m annoyed above all else. 

“I enjoy the focused look you wear.”

“You can look at my face when I escape this place.”

“Really? I’ve told you before, you belong to me as much as I belong to you.”

“Just let me cut the cake in peace.”

“I’m letting you cut it by yourself, you’re at peace.”

I groan and cut the cake as carelessly as possible, only using actual effort to cut through the base I made. I made it really smooth, the knife slid through the cheese easily. I’m happy with this.

“Here.” He places a hand on my hand, the one holding the knife. 

“We only need one slice. Share it with me.” Really?

“Yes.” Verbally unprompted, he responds.

“Fine. We can share.” This marriage isn’t going to go well in the end I swear-

“We’ll be fine darling, just work with me.” He says that in my ear. My grip on the knife tightens and I feel a little twitchy. His hand on my knife-gripping one squeezes, not crushes, which was odd when he was bent on keeping me from using the knife to do harm. Against him or myself?

I drop the knife and move from in front of him to put back a plate. He puts the slice on the remaining plate, and when I turn around he’s gone. After pulling off my apron, I grab the two forks in one hand and the plate in the other and head to the lounge. 

He’s on the gray mini couch, laying with his legs on its length and an arm atop the back of the couch that faces his left. I walk to grab a chair but I see him raise a hand to stop me. As I’m still looking directly at him, he beckons me with a finger.

I don’t know where to sit, because he takes up the entire fucking couch. When I’m at his side, he grabs the plate from my hand, fingers brushing against mine. 

He sets the plate where his arm was resting on. Then he turns to me, moves a little and pats at a space indicating that I sit there. 

When I sit, I try to leave some room between us, as much as I wasn’t comfortable sitting on the edge of the couch. I hand him a fork and he brings the plate of cheesecake between us. 

“You know what, hold this.” He hands me the plate and fork. His hands are at my waist and he lifts me into his lap.

Uh, I end up straddling his hips and the close proximity makes me shake in surprise. He’s warm right now, and this warmth is now felt more often now that we’re… married. 

With how he brings his knees up behind me, I kind of lean against him to avoid and hold the plate to the side. How awkward of me. 

“Umm, cake?” I nervously hand him back his fork and hold the plate a little closer to him. 

He takes the fork, stabs a piece off and holds the piece in front of my mouth. 

“Go on, eat it.” He says, voice lacking any kind of tone that makes me want to-

I bite the piece off his fork to stop that thought.

Ah, delicious. I quietly moan at how nice it tasted, facing down out of habit to hide my smile. My head lands on his chest though, and I fell out of my food-induced trance. 

My grip on the plate faltered and he held my hand still and balanced. 

“Stay focused my dear. How about you feed me?” His tongue lolls out before I can even get a piece on my fork. A bit of saliva drips on me. Ewww.

I bring the plate in front of me so I can easily get a piece. More of his saliva drips, but on the cake. My urge to yell obscenities at him grew as my annoyance for him did. Quickly cutting the top of the cheesecake off, I stab it with my fork before holding it up for him. I’m not eating that, he’s getting his fluids back. 

His tongue wrapped around the piece and the fork before his mouth, sharp teeth and all, consumed it. Some of his saliva dripped from the fork and onto my hand and I wiped it on my shorts.

“It’s exceptionally good. Maybe I’ll let you do this more often.” He chuckles. 

When he leans down, he brings the plate and my hand higher, and the position felt as if we were dancing. With how he manipulated my arm, my body had to follow, head facing his and chest pressed against him. I close my eyes tightly when I see him come down to me and I feel something press against my head. 

Peeking, I see him kissing my forehead. When he moves my arm, he sets the plate with the cake down and takes the fork from my hand, setting it on the floor. He sinks into the couch, much like when he sunk a bit to let me choke him while we took our first bath together. 

I’m somewhat face to face with him, but he’s still a little taller than me. I lean against his knees, but a hand on my spine pushes me to land on his chest, but I’m able to catch myself by placing my hands out. The position I’m in makes it seem like I’m the one that wanted whatever he wants to do. Like a housewife whose only just seen her husband after a year at sea. 

What do I do?

“You can kiss me.”

My mouth is agape slightly, the hand that was on my lower back was pushing fingers into my hair from the back of my head, guiding me to him. Sure, what could hurt.

When he has his tongue out, it grazes my cheek and I flinch a little. Today was supposed to be fun. Why not kiss him? I’ve had to do it before.

It’s just that seeing that tongue intimidates me. I don’t know why, though I could guess it’s that everything about it was inhuman, from its length, its thickness. But it was still a tongue

As I pressed my face against his “face”,unsure where his mouth would be, his tongue retracted when I made contact. It’s a soft kiss. He doesn’t try to shove his tongue down my throat for once. I can breathe and not have to worry about choking on saliva.

When I pull away for a few breaths, my eyes are still closed to imprint the soft feelings in my head. I hear the clink of the plate and I look to see what he’s up to. He put another bit of cheesecake into his mouth. 

But he doesn’t chew.

He just pulls me closer and kisses me. His mouth opens and I find cheesecake in my mouth. I try to pull away but he clamps my nose shut and his hand behind my head keeps me pressed against his mouth. Now, because I don’t want to choke on cheesecake to breathe I chew quickly and swallow. 

“Bleh!” I’m really grossed out. I just swallowed food and saliva from his  _ mouth. _ It was really mushy and it ruined the taste of the cheesecake for me. 

“It’s nothing, we exchange saliva when we kiss. What’s the difference?”

He grabs my cheeks and I can’t close my mouth. Drool escapes from the side of my mouth. He kissed my forehead, spat saliva and clamps my nose again. I think I have enough breath to spit at him, and I do. But it just ends up all over my chin as I sputter and he squeezes my face harder. My drool mixes with our saliva and I need to go and wipe it away, raising the back of my hand. What is his goal, to get off or give me fluids through this gross and inefficient method?

Ugh, just about everything turns out gross whenever we do anything together.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes but it doesn’t sound sincere at all and he stops me from wiping my face by holding my wrist and moving it down. His other hand is moving up and down my back, it feels comforting and gentle. It could be an apology, he knows how I like idle physical contact. 

The palm of my hand is settled between his torso and bicep, but my other hand is on top of his chest. I hold myself up this way because he keeps slouching. As I kept the same position as we were sitting completely upright, I ended up sitting on top of his groin and he let out a sound from the friction I didn’t mean to create.

Some of the fluids he won’t let me wipe dripped onto the top of my shirt. I can’t look away from his face because I don’t want my cheeks to be squeezed again. It gets annoying, being treated like a pet. We’re married. This is a mature relationship

Or is it?

When he sits back up, moving me down and straddling him yet again, his tongue appears and licks my cheek, adding more unwanted fluids to the mess on my face, but most of the dripping fluids are gone. His residual saliva dried on my skin. I wiped that off by using the sleeve of my shirt. I was too quick for him to stop me.

I feel his knees push against my back, closing the gap between his chest and mine. I look up to see he wants another kiss, a toothy smile on his “face” and a bit of drool lands on my cheek. I move my hips around a little to get in a more comfortable position, but there's a growing pressure from where our bodies meet. 

I’m hesitant about kissing him, because I don’t want to get more unwanted saliva on me. His habit of slobbering on me like a dog made me think he was truly a dog at times. 

Pff!

Fuck it.

With some help getting lifted up to his “face” I hold his “cheeks” and tilt my head little to place a chaste kiss to where I guess is his “mouth”. I’m somewhat kneeling on his hips now, with his arm keeping me pressed against him. He hums and the feelings tickle my lips. This was a cute make out session, something that I didn’t want to do before we were married. 

I let out a small giggle at feeling the vibrations of his voice, smiling against his “lips”. 

When I pull away to laugh behind my hand, he moves my wrist to continue the kiss, catching me off guard. His maw opens and I follow suit, but he spits a glob of saliva into my mouth.

It hits the back of my throat making me gag when it makes contact. How is it so cold?

With his hand, he holds my mouth and nose shut and I can’t do anything but let it slide down my throat. 

When he releases my head, I start throwing a faux tantrum. But I meant the words

“Stop it with the spitting stuff in my mouth!” I hammer my fists on his chest in a tantrum-like manner.

“You can do it to me. Treat it like when we consummated our bond.” I stop my tantrum because he’s right next to my head.

“Sensual.” His hot breath hits the inside of my ear. 

“Intimate.” The long, wet appendage that he calls a tongue digs into my ear and he bits my earlobe.

I can’t move away because I’m afraid he’ll hold on and tear my ear off. But I feel his “lips” kiss my temple, I figure as compensation for his weird antics. 

“Passionate.” It was husky and lower than a whisper. 

I flinched at his words, pushing him away but it doesn’t do much because my back hits his thighs. I’m still straddling his hips, but how it feels like I’m sitting on a weird chair. It’s getting hot because he’s starting to heat up, and the heat is making me uncomfortable. 

“One more, then I’m going to go clean up the kitchen and take a shower.” 

“Shall I join you?”

“If you want to do that, I’m going straight into cleaning and showering.”

I give him a peck before hopping off him, careful to not step on the cheesecake that was abandoned on the floor. 

**Author's Note:**

> why


End file.
